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 --[The Chronicles]--

Streams of silver moonlight filtered down upon the desolate roads of
Rhydin, reflecting off of the vibrant chain mail fo the Mordentshire
elite. Prysm Mordentshire, atop her chestnut-colored steed treaded
at the head of the warrior division , following closely behind her in
masterful precision. Squinting in the darkness of the night she could
barely make out the towering trees in the distant horizon. It would
only be a few more days until her unit breached the military baricade
of the Escariot armies. Sighing in anticipation, it was then that the
shrill cry of an infant reached her ears. Prysm's eyes darted around
hesitantly, landing on a small bundle of white linen cloth near the
side of the rode. There, within the shrubs lay a child, hair of crimson
fire balling up on his small head, gentle at heart, the woman drew the
child to her chest and mounted back upon her mighty warhorse.
She named him Jeremy...


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